The Man Who Can't Be Moved
by Starkidtheatregeek
Summary: AU: She's a producer and hears him playing a song on the street. He's just been through a breakup and isn't ready to give it up. She's there to help him through it and get back on his feet again, but isn't prepared when her feelings come into play alongside her professional aims. He can't see through his old feelings and is completely unaware of the storm she has become. Breredith


**A/N: Hey guys! So instead of working on my WIPs like I should be, I started a new story. Um...I really like the idea, I got it this morning listening to "The Man Who Can't Be Moved" so here it is...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own "The Man Who Can't Be Moved" it is The Script's song, and in no way related to Starkid unless any of them like the song. But you should all listen to it it's amazing. **

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_"__And if one day you wake up and find that you__'__re missing me, and your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be, thinking maybe you__'__ll come back here to the place that we meet, and you see me waiting for you on the corner of there street. So I__'__m not moving, I__'__m not moving.__"_

A lone voice accompanied by a guitar carried over the bustle of New Yorkers on the sidewalk. When the performer came into view, she stopped and watched him for the rest of the song. His voice was soft and melodious, but it carried over everything else. He was completely immersed in the song, not noticing the woman watching him intently. When he finished, he was startled when he heard the clunk of change his guitar case, which he had purposefully left closed to avoid that. He grabbed the change to hand back to the stranger, but when he looked, all he saw was a woman with curly hair walking away while returning her wallet to her purse.

For the rest of the day, as he played, all he could think about was that woman who had seen him, she was the only one to drop change onto his closed case. But even his curiosity about the kind woman couldn't make him forget the reason he was there, and it hit him like a hurricane each time he remembered.

Normally, when she went home, she took the subway, but the thought of that corner had been haunting her all day. As soon as she got to work, she had googled the lyrics to that song, but hadn't found anything. She wished she had found them, because the song was stuck in her head, and would not budge, even as she listened to all the artists record all day. By the end of the day, she had written the chorus down with multiple harmonizations, and she wanted to talk to the man. Clearly, he had written the song, and she wanted everything he had on it.

She was not disappointed when she found him still sitting there playing, something different than he had that morning. This time, she did not drop change on his case, but she watched him intently, exiling him to play more. In this, she was disappointed, he looked up, clearly having felt being watched. His blue eyes passed over her quickly, before his hand disappeared in his pocket. He produced the change she had given him that morning, and said, "I don't want your money."

"I didn't ask if you did," she replied, moving to sit next to him on the curb.

His eyes widened in surprise, clearly not having expected her to stay, and cleared his throat, not wanting to talk to the weird stranger, "Listen, I'd love to talk, but I have somewhere to be." He opened his guitar case so he could put it away and leave.

Before he got it open very far, she rested her arm on top of it, "If you really had somewhere to be, would you have been sitting here all day?" she asked, her brown eyes piercing through his own.

Again, he cleared his throat, not quite knowing what to say.

"Listen," she said, suddenly businesslike, "I heard you playing a song this morning, and it was brilliant. Obviously you wrote it yourself, and to be honest, it has been driving me crazy all day. I could only remember the words to the chorus, so I reharmonizes it a few times," throughout this speech, she had been pulling out the choruses, and handed them to him.

Before she could continue, he cut her off, "You reharmonized the chorus?"

She nodded, "I would've gone in to record them, too, but I don't think my voice would do the melody justice."

He stared at her in shock for a few moments, before asking, "Where do you work?"

"Oh," she said, realizing she had neglected to say that, "I'm a producer at Starkid Records, so it totally looks like I'm working if I'm just harmonizing something over and over again."

"You're a producer?" he asked, disbelief etched across his face. "I've gotten turned down by Starkid Records before, and you like my song?"

Her eyes widened, "You have? I don't think that was my call, it was probably Darren or Nick."

"But why is this song different?" he asked curiously, "These harmonies are brilliant, by the way."

"Thanks. And my my guess is because this song has raw emotion in it."

He made no answer, remembering exactly why he had written that song, as well as the promise it made.

"Do you want to drop by? You could play around with recording it, and I bet I could-" she started, but was cut off.

"I'd love to, but I'm waiting for someone," he said, a little more harshly than he had originally intended.

"Oh," she said, the disappointment in her voice clear. "Well it was nice meeting you. And you can keep those," she said, gesturing to the manuscripts in his hands.

For the second time that day, he was left watching the curly-haired woman walk away from him with the same question on his lips, "Wait, what's your name?"

777

"Meredith, what were you doing yesterday that got in the way of this?" Darren used in lieu of a greeting the next morning.

"I was working on a potential artist," she answered a little sullenly.

"Oh," Darren said with interest, "Who?"

It was right then that Meredith realized she didn't know his name, "I don't even know his name," she whispered.

"So, let me get this straight; you did nothing productive yesterday while working on an artist whose name you don't even now?" he asked sharply.

"His song is very, very good," she defended herself.

"His song?" he asked, "He only has one?"

"No, he has lots of songs, just the one that I heard yesterday morning was particularly good," she defended.

"The only way that this could get better for you is if I hear the song and think it's really damn good," he warned, not in the mood for an argument.

Meredith stood up and crossed to the piano in her office, and played the chorus she had become so familiar with the day before. After she had sung the chorus, she looked at Darren expectantly.

"Is that it?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"That's the chorus," she said impatiently.

With obvious difficulty, he said, "It is a very good chorus. But never judge a song by its chorus."

Meredith sighed, "Yes, I know, but I've heard the rest of the song. And I've been in this business just as long as you have, I think I know what I'm doing.

Darren ran a hand through his unruly, curly hair. "Mere," he sighed, "You don't even know his name."

"But I know where I can find him," she said,

"How?"

"He's playing at a corner near my apartment complex," she replied.

"Will you get him to come in?" Darren asked.

"I'll try, but he's 'waiting for someone'," she she quoted.

"At least find out his name," he said with finality in his voice, leaving the room.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Meredith shouted to his retreating back.

At the end of the day-a much more productive one than the last day-Meredith headed home. Before she reached the corner, though, she was hit by a stroke of brilliance. She turned into the nearest coffee shop and picked up a coffee for the man. Purposefully, she strode to the corner and was pleased to see him there again. Without hesitation, she plopped down next to him, even though he was in the middle of a song. When he was done, she handed him the coffee, "I thought you might want this."

He smiled, and took a sip, "Thanks."

"Have you been out here all day?" she asked, taking note of the circles underneath his eyes. He simply nodded, clearly not wanting to speak. "I realized that we never properly introduced ourselves yesterday, so here goes. My name is Meredith," she said, extending her hand to him.

"My name is Brian," he replied, shaking her hand firmly.

"Now that we've had an actual introduction, can I ask you a question?" she said a little tentatively and after a long pause.

"Shoot."

"Ok, well yesterday you said that you were waiting for someone, you don't look like you've gotten any sleep since a few days ago, and you're singing what is actually quite a depressing song. So who are you waiting for?" she said quickly, without taking a breath.

"My ex-girlfriend," he said after a pause, "This is all about her."

"Ah," Meredith said, putting all the pieces together. "So she just broke up with you?" Again, all she received as an answer was a nod. "I'm sorry," she tried. "I shouldn't have pried," she said, standing up to leave.

"Well, I'm sort of singing it for the world to hear, so it's no big deal," he said, standing up with her, his joints a little stiff.

Meredith noticing the stiffness in his movements, said, "I'm still sorry. And, if you ever need anything, my apartment is right over there," she said pointing. "8 G," she added as an afterthought, not waiting for an answer.

Brian stared after the kind woman he was not longer sure if he should call a stranger, and whispered, long after she was out of sight, "Thank you."


End file.
